Things don't have to get Supernatural, to get weird
by FanficDelivery
Summary: Sam had never imagined that Dean liked girls and boys. He wouldn't have minded in the slightest if this was the case. However, he would have loved to find out in a different way than walking in on his brother spread-eagle on a bed with some dude fucking him senseless. (Or just an excuse to pay with Dean) Contains slash. Dean x OMC


Summary: Sam had never imagined that Dean liked girls _and _boys. He wouldn't have minded in the slightest if this was the case. However, he would have loved to find out in a different way than walking in on his brother spread-eagle on a bed with some dude fucking him senseless.

Rating: M

Author: FanficDelivery (Also posted on ArchiveOfOurOwn)

* * *

Dean had had enough, he told Sam. And, if Sam were to be frank with himself, so had he. Their last job had been horrendous, had included way too many dodge-the-bullet scenarios, and after digging up the wrong grave twice, they were really fucking done. When Sam had suggested they have a drink he meant the two of them, relaxing in the impala or in the motel. He had to admit he was a little bit disappointed but not surprised when Dean drove straight to the nearest bar in town.

Sam sat nursing his glass, one elbow on the bar as he watched Dean chat up some blonde chick with two pig tails and too much make-up. Dean licked his lip expertly, leaned closer and whispered something in her ear. The girl's jaw dropped and Dean smiled smugly, draining the shot the barman shoved his way. Sam shook his head, not believing that Dean (gross, shorter, stupid, rude) was able to get girls as easily as ordering take-in, and that he was left alone sitting at the bar. Despite himself, he smiled fondly.

After a while of staring down his glass and checking up on Dean now and then, he was shaken back to reality by the sudden presence of a broad (and when Sam says broad, he means _broad_, because his own hands are fucking huge) hand on his shoulder.

"Is that aTAURUS Model 92 9mm in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?" He said, catching Sam – who had turned around in the fashion of a scared cat – off guard.

He swallowed, a bit taken aback as he shook the strangers outstretched hand. The immediate thought _is he a hunter_ crossed his mind, but the way he was dressed and the lack of weapons (apart from a badly hidden shotgun on his waist) the guy was carrying told him no. _But h__e was right about the Taurus.._

"I'm Nick" the stranger said, sitting down next to him.

"Sam. But I don't swing that way, sorry." His eyes went back to Dean, watching over his brother to make sure he wasn't doing anything _majorly _stupid. He thought he'd lost Nick's interest until the guy leaned closer to him, barstool almost toppling as it came to rest on two legs.

"Then why have we been checking out the same guy all night?" he whispered, all 4 feet landing back on the floor again. A sarcastic laugh left Sam – He suddenly wasn't so happy with Nick anymore. Dean could take care of himself, but the idea of some guy wanting to get in his pants made Sam uncomfortable. Especially if said guy was carrying a gun and able to identify a Taurus from the outline in Sam's pocket.

"He's my brother."

"Oh." Sam coughed awkwardly in reply.

"Yeah. Speaking of whom, I'd better rob him of his car keys, he's not driving anywhere." He watched Dean drown another shot and rubbed his hand over his face tiredly. Wished they'd just gone and watched some TV together with a couple of beers.

"Is he-" Nick started, running his hand through his long back hair, "Is he like, available? By which I mean; Are you going to kick my ass if I take him home with me?"

Sam shook his head. "Not a chance." Then whispered, "Not his type".

"Then which way does your brother swing?" Nick asked sarcastically. Sam was getting a little bit sick of the interrogation and felt a bitch mood coming up.

"Every way but yours, honey" He bit out, and turned his back to the stranger, leaving him on the barstool with his beer.

He should have known getting Dean's keys wasn't going to be easy.

"Sammy!" He was greeted instantly as he stood towering over both his brother and his brother's soon-to-be hook-up. Dean's arm was thrown around the girl's shoulders and, _had he even seen her face? Ew!_

"Dean do you have a ride? I'm gonna need your car keys." He stuck out his hand, cocking his eyebrow. Dean flat out ignored Sam's question and turned around, sloppily kissing the girl. "Dean!" Dean gave him the finger, his back still turned to Sam. So he grabbed Dean by the shoulder, pulling him backwards and groping his brother's back pocket for his car keys.

"Woahh there, Sammy, didn't know you had a thing for me." Sam let out a disapproving grunt as his drunk-as-fuck brother leaned into his touch.

"Does he have a ride home?" Sam repeated, this time looking at Mrs McFakeTan (who was still sober enough to drive a car, thank fuck). She made a sound that was quieter than the sounds of her rotten brain trying to work out an answer, before confirming that she had a car, and he was out the door before he could witness another make-out session. On the ride home, all he could think was, _I am so ready for bed _and _I will try to erase that from my memory forever_.

* * *

It was about 3 hours later, just after 3AM, that Sam found himself waking up with his face planted in the motel's sluggishly brown pillow. Checking the alarm clock, he let his head fall back on the pillow because _why the fuck_ did he wake up at three in the morning and it better not have been his brother because Sam would strangle him if it was.

This was the first time they'd had separate bedrooms in a motel in ages. All because last time, Sam had had to endure Dean's shenanigans with some girl, and he'd decided he never wanted to experience that again. At first he had actually regretted it because, he had to admit, he felt a lot safer with his big brother sleeping next to him.

But when he noticed the source of the sound that had woken him up came from his brother's bedroom he furiously wished they'd had separate fucking motels instead of just bedrooms.

"Fuck." He groaned into the dirty pillow and wanted to go back to sleep _so badly_ but the sounds Dean was making were obscene. He tried rolling around a couple of times, covering his face with his pillow, but when the sound of a bed slamming into the wall echoed through the motel room, he was _so fucking done_. While putting on some pants and deciding how best to walk in, he heard the groan of another male and all he could think was _fuck no is he organizing an orgy?_

He threw the door open so hard, it made a _bang _when it hit the wall.

"Nick?!"

* * *

Normally, when he hooked up with a dude, he liked to do so away from Sammy, preferably at said dude's place. Not because he was ashamed of himself, or because he thought Sam would actually care, but he just didn't want to talk about it. Or have it discussed. And he figured he'd lose some of his authority over Sam after getting caught spreading his legs for some guy.

But today, he'd been through so many _purple nurples_, he didn't really care anymore. And after that last case, phew, he really needed distraction of the best kind. Nick was exactly that. He was handsome, with jet black hair and blue eyes. Slightly taller than Dean and a little bit broader too. He hadn't askeda single question, hadn't even introduced himself, he'd just cupped Dean's jaw and pressed their lips together.

"I've been watching you all night..Want to take me home?" He'd whispered in Dean's ear. Dean, who was still breathless, sobered up a little with the intense blue-eyed stare that this stranger was giving him. He nodded slowly, licked his lips.

"Yeah. Yeah, okay." He shoved his hand in his back pocket, searching for the familiar form of the Impala's key. At first he thought it was the tremble in his hand that prevented him from grabbing it in one quick motion, but then realized that _oh!_ Sam had gotten his keys off him.

"My brother h-" blue-eyes silenced him with a finger on his lips. Dean felt a little bit light-headed. The combination of black, shoulder length hair and light blue eyes made this man very enthralling. He hoped to God that this wasn't a trap.

"I know. I'll drive." Dean felt positively giddy as Nick - whose name he got after feeling him up in the car - grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the exit.

15 minutes later found Dean laying on his stomach, with Nick caressing his sides, kissing down his spine.

"Those dimples, Dean. I can't get enough of the way your back curves." Dean managed a soft groan in response as Nick tongued those dimples, moving his fingers lower to slide boxer shorts down, lifted his legs one by one to get them off completely. Dean sucked in a breath of anticipation. "I'll just assume for the moment that I'm calling the shots?"

And how could Dean even fucking refuse when Nick was already making him open his legs and treating his ass like some sort of lost treasure. His lover coaxed open his legs, let his finger wander over the crack of his ass experimentally. Nick left him laying there shortly after. He turned onto his back and lazily watched the tall man stride towards his coat, from which he grabbed a small bottle of massage oil.

"This will do." Nick smiled, and Dean felt the bed dip a little when he crawled between his legs.

"No no no. Wait" He held up his hands in a sign of protest, "Look dude, I'm all for the you-me-nothing-inbetween thing, but I'd rather be safe." Dean saw Nick's eye twitch briefly before he gave an eye-roll and went back to his jacket to retrieve a condom.

"And to think I took you for an adventurous man."

"Ha, yeah. Well, I'm not willing to try _that_ kind of adventure." A shudder went down Dean's spine at the thought of catching a thousand STD's, and somehow the image of a green, rotting penis came to his mind and he had to slap himself to not ruin is own hard-on.

"Fair enough."

Turns out ruining his hard-on wasn't really an option anymore, as his lover had gone to pressing a long finger inside, and Dean couldn't stay quiet. He forgot about Sam next door, and Nick was _good_ at this, at making him loose himself in shameless ecstasy. He took the pain easily, urging Nick on to hurry because every once in a while Dean just wanted someone to _control_ him, take everything he had to give.

"Remind me to get- _oh! Fuuuck" _He drawled the word out, his own voice barely audible over the sudden _slap_ of skin on skin. "- your number." he finished, as Nick was leaving hot puffs of air on his shoulder, slowly sinking all the way into him. He stayed still for a while, and Dean moved his hands over the muscled shoulders of the man above him, rubbing soothingly. After a couple of seconds Nick seemed to snap out of it, finally starting to move, and really _move_, like making the bed creak and slam into the wall-_move_.

It was all sweaty, hard, masculine and, frankly, quite perfect. He let Nick pin his arms above his head, let him take control and pretended not to be able to throw him off at any given time. He knew he was moaning obscenely, and maybe a small part of him was aware of the thump of his little brother getting out of bed. But a bigger part, an estimated 99.9%, was focused on the teeth on his shoulder, the movement of Nick and yes, _the bed was actually slamming against the wall._

What he failed to notice were the footsteps of his brother – his tall, muscled, weigh-a-fucking-ton-brother – coming closer. But well, could you blame him. When Nick bent his legs so far back that every thrust was about as deep as Dean went, it didn't take long for him to reach his orgasm and go slack in Nick's strong arms.

"Come on, baby. Keep going, that's right." He whispered, pulling his partner's head down to kiss him through his orgasm. Everything was just peachy as Nick kept thrusting lazily until-

_Slam!_

"Nick?! D-Dean..? Oh.. God..." It took Dean's fuzzy alcohol-filled, sex-dazed mind a while to realize that oh damn, Sam was standing in the doorway, making gagging noises and averting his gaze. Oops. They both reached for the blanket at their feet at lightning speed, throwing it over themselves in a messy, but efficient way. They sat huddled together with a blanket up to their waist.

"Ah, hey Sammy." Dean rubbed the back of his head, looking up at his brother nervously. But Sam wasn't looking back at him. Nick and he were giving each other death glares from hell.

"Look who we've got here... If it isn't the guy who swore his brother was as straight as an arrow." Nick smirked nonchalantly in Dean's way, hand running over his shoulder and kneading the tense muscles in his neck.

"Dude, you just fucked my brother, woke me up at 3AM, and now you're giving me a told-you-so? You are _so_ getting out of here. Before or after I beat you up. It's up to you."

"Sammy! Relax! It's not like I was molested or anything." Dean's futile attempt to stop whatever was going on between those two seemed to uselessly soar straight over their heads. And if two angry men and a drunkard weren't enough chaos already, the room service lady who, had been woken up from all the commotion, barged in too.

Oh, just _dandy._

The room service lady was screaming at Dean, and Dean was screaming at Nick, and Nick was screaming at Sam who screamed right back. Then Dean roared over everyone with his booming voice, the one he used while blaring commands at everyone. "All right, enough! Sam, get the fuck out of here and let us get some freaking clothes on! Nick, stop boasting about getting in the pants of a sexy guy like me and leave my little brother out of it. And you madam, I'm really sorry, but we'll be gone by morning."

When they all followed his commands grudgingly, Dean let his head fall back against the headboard. Well, fuck.

* * *

"How long exactly have you been have you been seeing guys around my back?" Sam asked later, as they strode towards the Impala together.

"Ever since I got the urge to get my ass plowed?" Sam raised an eyebrow sarcastically. "Well I didn't really keep count, Sammy! It was before you went to Stanford, anyway." He looked up at Sam, gauging his reaction. Sam, meanwhile, was busy catching flies.

"I can't believe my bad-ass big brother bats for the other team." Sam smiled. "So.. that hunt in Harlem, when you convinced me you'd fallen on your ass real badly when the vamp attacked you..."

"Yep, you guessed it."

Sam clicked his tongue and shook his head, exasperated. "Dare I ask who?"

"Remember the really buff bartender that gave you the once-over? Went for me the moment you disappeared to hunt that evil son of a bitch down."

"But.. how? I mean, you were with me on the hunt and saved me a mere 40 minutes later!"

"Well... the classic do-it-in-a-dirty-alley scenes in Trueblood came from _somewhere_.."

"Are you kidding me? Jesus, Dean you are disgusting." Dean grinned in the 'yeah I know!' fashion that he often did. Sam punched his shoulder hard, making him clutch it and give a fake pout.

"Really Sammy, do you always have to be such a pain in the ass?" He slapped Sam on his shoulder and winked. "Nahh... just kidding. I like pain in the ass."

"Oh, _come on!_"

**END**


End file.
